In the face of death, 2 Marines stood, fired

Wednesday

SAN DIEGO -- They had known each other only a few minutes, but they will be linked forever in what Marine brass say is one of the most extraordinary acts of courage and sacrifice in the Iraq war.

SAN DIEGO -- They had known each other only a few minutes, but they will be linked forever in what Marine brass say is one of the most extraordinary acts of courage and sacrifice in the Iraq war.

Cpl. Jonathan Yale, 21, grew up in rural Virginia. He had joined the Marine Corps to put structure in his life and support his mother and sister. He was within a few days of heading home.

Lance Cpl. Jordan Haerter, 19, was from a comfortably middle-class suburb on Long Island, N.Y. As a boy, he had worn military garb, and he had felt the pull of adventure and patriotism. He had just arrived in Iraq.

On April 22, the two were assigned to guard the main gate to Joint Security Station Nasser in Ramadi, the capital of Anbar province, once an insurgent stronghold and still dangerous.

Dozens of Marines and Iraqi police lived in the compound, and some were sleeping after all-night patrols when Yale and Haerter reported for duty. Yale, respected for his quiet, efficient manner, was assigned to show Haerter how to take over his duties.

Haerter had volunteered to watch the main gate, even though it was considered the most hazardous of the compound's three guard stations because it could be approached from a busy thoroughfare.

The sun had barely risen on a sultry morning when the two sentries spotted a 20-foot-long truck headed toward the gate, weaving through the concrete barriers with increasing speed. Two Iraqi police officers assigned to the gate ran for their lives. So did several Iraqi police on the adjacent street.

Yale and Haerter tried to wave off the truck, but it kept coming. They opened fire, Yale with a machine gun, Haerter with an M-16. Their bullets peppered the radiator and windshield. The truck slowed but kept rolling.

A few dozen feet from the gate, the truck exploded. Investigators found that it had been loaded with 2,000 pounds of explosives and that its driver, his hand on a "dead-man switch," had been determined to commit suicide and slaughter Marines and Iraqi police.

The thunderous explosion rocked Ramadi, interrupting the morning call to prayers from mosques. A nearby mosque and a home were flattened. The blast ripped a crater 5 feet deep and 20 feet across into the street. Shards of concrete scattered everywhere, and choking dust filled the air.

Haerter was dead; Yale was soon to be.

Three Marines about 300 feet away were injured. So were eight Iraqi police and two dozen civilians. But several dozen other Marines and Iraqi police, while shaken, were unhurt. A Black Hawk helicopter was summoned to get the dying Yale to a field hospital. A sheet was placed over Haerter. But his section leader insisted that he be covered by an American flag.

"We did not want him carried out with just a sheet," Staff Sgt. Kenneth Grooms said.

Maj. Gen. John Kelly, the top Marine in Iraq, wanted to know how the attack happened. Like many veteran Marines, he is haunted by the memory of the 1983 bombing of the barracks in Beirut, Lebanon, when an explosives-laden truck exploded, killing 241 U.S. service personnel, including 220 Marines.

Kelly, who commanded Marines in the fight for Baghdad and Tikrit in 2003 and Fallujah in 2004, admits that the specter of another Beirut gives him nightmares as he commands the 22,000 Marines in Iraq.

He went to Ramadi to interview Iraqi witnesses -- a task generals usually delegate to subordinates. Some Iraqis told him they were incredulous that the two Marines had not fled.

When Marine technicians restored a damaged security camera, the images were undeniable. While Iraqi police fled, Haerter and Yale never flinched and never stopped firing as the Mercedes-Benz truck, the same model used in the Beirut bombing, sped directly toward them.

Without their steadfastness, the truck probably would have penetrated the compound before it exploded, and 50 or more Marines and Iraqis would have been killed. The incident happened in just 6 seconds.

"No time to talk it over; no time to call the lieutenant; no time to think about their own lives or even the American and Iraqi lives they were protecting," Kelly said. "More than enough time, however, to do their duty. They never hesitated or tried to escape."

Kelly nominated the two young men for the Navy Cross, the second-highest award for combat bravery for Marines and sailors. Even by the standards expected of Marine "grunts," their bravery was exceptional, Kelly said.

The Haerter and Yale families will receive the medals early in 2009.

On the night after the bombing, Kelly wrote to each family: "I will remember him, and pray for him and for all those who mourn his loss, for the rest of my life."

A motorcade escorted Haerter's casket through Sag Harbor on Long Island as residents lined the streets, weeping and saluting.

Yale's casket made the 83-mile trip from the airport at Richmond, Va., to Farmville with an honor guard provided by the Patriot Guard Riders, a motorcycle group that includes ex-service members.

"He's not supposed to be dead," said the Rev. Leon Burchett, who gave the eulogy at Yale's funeral and in whose home Yale had often lived as a teenager. "The casket was flag-draped, but it couldn't be opened. There's no closure -- it's like we're still waiting for him to come home."

On Long Island, a bridge was renamed for Haerter. His high school put a flag from his funeral in a time capsule. His family set up a memorial Web site, www.jordanhaerter.com.

At a Wounded Warrior Project event, Haerter's mother, JoAnn Lyles, her voice breaking, talked of how she had hoped to do something special for his 20th birthday. "We now know that Jordan -- Lance Cpl. Jordan C. Haerter -- was already a man, a courageous and brave young man," she said.

Their battalions are now back at Camp Lejeune, N.C.: for Haerter, the 1st Battalion, 9th Regiment; for Yale, the 2nd Battalion, 8th Regiment. In Iraq, both units were part of the Regimental Combat Team One based at Camp Pendleton, Calif.

Yale's unit was within a week of going home when the attack occurred. His death seemed to deflate its sense of achievement.

"The Marines were very upset and very disappointed because of the effort they had made to make a better life for the Iraqis and then to have this happen," said Capt. Matthew Martin, Yale's company commander.

Haerter's unit had just arrived for a seven-month deployment, and officers tried to make sure his death did not unduly distract the Marines.